


Mistletoe Surprise

by BlushingDragon



Series: The Rogue Trevelyans [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Intense Flirting, Kissing with Feelings, Love at First Sight, M/M, Making Out, Meet-Cute, Trevelyan (Dragon Age) has Sibling(s), Wintersend, asexual virgin doesn't know how to tag works more @ 11, is this deserving of the mature rating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-18 01:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12377868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushingDragon/pseuds/BlushingDragon
Summary: “Hey, you don’t have any plans for the twenty-fourth, do you?” The gleam in her green eyes was a familiar one: Nathanael wasn’t about to weasel out of her plans without a really good excuse.No use in pretending, then. “No, unless you count curling up in front of the fire with a Tevinter port and several books as a plan.”Alyss’ signature wicked smile flashed brightly as the snow, and Nathanael resigned himself to the feeling of dread curling in his gut.





	Mistletoe Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> *burrows out from under NaNoWriMo wordcount and tosses this out into the night*   
> A PEACE OFFERING bc if i didn't post it now i'd be posting it too late for it to be seasonal. happy wintersend & holidays everybody.

Nathanael Trevelyan stared down his twin sister sternly. Alyss hung upside-down from the branch of an oak tree, the only one in the Trevelyan orchard. He marked the date in his head for this calendar event; Alyss usually left the family gardens to Nathanael and his flower shop, but it seemed that the festive season brought mitigating circumstances. His gaze flicked from the clipping of leaves in her hand to the pleading expression on her face.

“I cannot believe you,” he uttered resignedly.

“It’s for a good cause!” she protested, swinging back up to sit securely on the branch. “Besides, you never sell any, and you told me it’s a parasite plant, so I’m doing you a favour, yeah?”

In her gloved hands, Alyss gently cradled a small bundle of leaves and white berries that Nathanael assumed was destined to end up tied up in red ribbon and hung over the desk of Alyss’ co-worker, one Cullen Rutherford. Nathanael had met the man a few times through mutual friends and had been the one to introduce Alyss and Cullen when she had joined the law firm he was a partner in, the Inquisition.

Why Alyss was crazy about the man, Nathanael couldn’t guess, but he knew that Cullen had initially found Alyss’ prankster nature baffling for a such an adept lawyer, but he’d eventually grown to like the way she brightened up the office.

“‘thanael! Catch!”

The call of his childhood nickname startled him into action, and the bundle of mistletoe landed safely in his hands just as Alyss tumbled through the snow only to pop up again as if to say “ta-da!” Her hair band had completely deserted her in the fall, and her cascading red hair was dotted with snowflakes.

“Thanks, ‘thanael. I wasn’t sure how to get down from there with my hands full,” she admitted.

Rolling his eyes, Nathanael handed the bundle back to her. “Such a lack of foresight, Inquisitor Trevelyan,” he snarked.

“Oh, shut it, you,” retorted Alyss with a smile. “Hey, you don’t have any plans for the twenty-fourth, do you?” The gleam in her green eyes was a familiar one: Nathanael wasn’t about to weasel out of her plans without a _really_ good excuse.

No use in pretending, then. “No, unless you count curling up in front of the fire with a Tevinter port and several books as a plan.”

Alyss’ signature wicked smile flashed brightly as the snow, and Nathanael resigned himself to the feeling of dread curling in his gut.

“I could get you curled up with a tall glass of another kind of Tevinter,” Alyss coaxed. “There’s this new hire at the office. Dressed to the nines every day, has this mustache that works somehow, still hasn’t beat Cullen at chess. He’s snarky, he likes books. I think you’ll like him.”

The last time Alyss had set him up with someone, Nathanael had the unenviable task of letting down a Qunari boxing champion in front of his parents. Alyss had later admitted to sending Bull straight to their parent’s house during Nathanael’s visit in order to shock the Lord and Lady Trevelyan, whom she hadn’t spoken to since she moved out, but Bull was surprisingly nice and Nathanael could see why Alyss would think he could be interested. Now, it seemed she was trying a different extreme.

“You’re trying to shock our parents by setting me up with _a Tevinter_ , aren’t you?” accused Nathanael, placing an emphasis on the words in an imitation of their mother’s stern voice.

Alyss gasped theatrically, but vehemently shook her head. “No, I learned my lesson. I think you’ll genuinely like Dorian. Please? Even if you don’t like him, everyone at the office wants to see you at the party before the holidays.”

Nathanael couldn’t deny that Alyss’ co-workers were good friends of his, and with the flower shop drowning in poinsettias and roses for the season, Nathanael needed a break to talk with people who weren’t clients.

“Alright, but if it doesn’t work out, I’m telling Cullen where those sunflowers on his birthday came from,” he bargained with her.

Alyss growled in the back of her throat. “Stop holding that over my head! First, it was five months ago, and second, how was I supposed to know he was allergic?”

“Did you at least check if he was allergic to mistletoe?”

“Of course I did, dork, I learned from my mistake. See you at the office building, then? Eight o’clock, the 24th.”

“I’ll be there, Lyssie.”

* * *

 

At exactly 8:04, Nathanael stood in the elevator, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. He turned the miniature pine tree in his hands, checking to see if all of the decorations were still there. Since Nathanael didn’t bring a gift for every member of the Inquisition’s “inner circle” he’d brought something to brighten up the place instead. Josephine and Leliana, the other two partners of the firm, had a very stern stance regarding Wintersend gifts: one collective gift, or one small gift for each person. As it wasn’t Nathanael’s first Inquisition Wintersend party, he knew that the small tree was acceptable, but that knowledge didn’t keep him from double-checking the gift. He had a botanist’s reputation to uphold, after all.

Just as the elevator doors began to slide closed, a voice called out, “Wait!”

Nathanael edged his foot between the doors, while a wave of white light entered the elevator and suddenly turned into a man with a curled mustache and snow in his hair.

In shock, Nathanael took a step back, and the elevator doors closed with an almost comical _ding!_

The man began to brush the snow out of his dark hair, and he shook slightly. “I hate that spell,” he muttered, but brightened up considerably when he finally took notice of his company.

“Sorry about that,” he said brightly. “Dorian Pavus.”

He held out a hand, and Nathanael shook it firmly while studying the newcomer’s face. His lips were quirked up in a self-deprecating kind of smile, and Nathanael admitted inwardly that Alyss was right; while neither Trevelyan cared much for facial hair on men, Dorian’s mustache _worked_ , even with the tiniest goatee he’d ever seen. The faintest of lines creased at the edges of his grey eyes, and Nathanael couldn’t help but smile back.

“Nathanael Trevelyan,” he said.

Dorian’s eyebrow arched up in surprise. “Alyss’ brother?”

“The twin brother,” Nathanael confirmed. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Alyss told me about you.”

“Oh? And what did our dear prankster have to say about me?” Dorian asked. His expression settled into something smug, yet intrigued.

“You like books, you haven’t beaten her boyfriend at chess yet, and she likes your sense of sarcasm,” Nathanael recited. He left out the part about his fashion sense and his mustache, and how she thought that he’d like Dorian. In the back of his mind, Nathanael cursed his sister fondly; she was right, again.

“Nothing about my being so charming and well-dressed? I’m insulted,” Dorian declared with theatrical-mock offense.

Nathanael laughed and fired back, “She didn’t need to say anything. Now that I’ve met you, I’m well aware of your finer qualities.”

For a split second, Dorian’s grey eyes widened in surprise and Nathanael could’ve sworn that blush lit up his face. Unfortunately, the elevator doors slid open just then, and each of their names were called by their friends. With the moment nipped at the bud, Nathanael took a startled step back.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you, Dorian,” Nathanael said, and made his escape into the party.

* * *

 

As usual, Dorian’s luck was turning out to be unbelievable. Not particularly good or bad, just simply unbelievable.

From Dorian’s first day at the Inquisition, Alyss had been a friend. Granted, the kind of friend who would glue your coffee mug to your desk if she thought it would make you laugh, but a friend all the same. She had a temper that matched her fiery red hair and Varric’s nickname for her, “Quillback”, but she stood by her friends just as fiercely.

However, when she approached him with the most serious expression that Dorian had seen outside of a courtroom, he had the inexplicable urge to run for cover.

“You have to come to the Wintersend office party,” Alyss declared, arms crossed.

“And why, though I fear I may regret asking, do I simply _have_ to join my co-workers in an evening of nibbling little cookies and exchanging gag gifts?”

“Because Josie is breaking out the good—and by good, I mean Tevinter—liquor for the occasion, and my twin brother will be there.”

Dorian looked up at that. “I thought that you didn’t speak to your family.” They’d had that in common, or so he’d thought.

“I don’t speak to my parents,” she corrected. “I couldn’t _not_ speak to ‘thanael if I tried, and Edmund would wreak havoc on me if I didn’t make sure to email him once a week.

“Anyway,” she pressed on, “My unbearably kind, rather intellectual, _very single_ twin brother will be at the Wintersend party, so you simply _have_ to be there.”

Dorian let a slow smile spread across his face as he imagined it. “In that case, consider my interest piqued.”

And then the week had flown by on dragon’s wings; an expression of Varric’s that meant that the week had been a complete clusterfuck and he was glad that it was over. Dorian was lucky to find one bottle of Antivan brandy in his pantry as his “collective gift” and he was still almost unfashionably late before he Fade-stepped right into the arms of the most adorable man he’d ever seen.

It was easy to see the family resemblance: the color palette was achingly similar, although Nathanael's green eyes were a brighter, less mischievous shade than his sister’s. Wrapped up in a coat and scarf as he was, Nathanael had a distinctly _huggable_ sort of presence, no matter how much Varric protested that that wasn’t a word. When that first taste of flirtation passed Nathanael’s lips into the air between them, a peculiar feeling tugged at Dorian’s chest that he endeavored to ignore.

Dorian swanned through the crowd of colleagues with his usual grace, presenting his gift to Josephine with effusive gratitude, and processed to haunt the minibar attempting to disguise his furtive glances around the room as nonchalant curiosity. He attempted to convince himself that no, he wasn't looking for any signs of red hair,but the argument fell apart when he nearly dropped his glass when Alyss made her way toward him.

Hands perched on hips, Alyss arched her eyebrows in an unimpressed look. It was a credit to her intimidating stance that she didn't have to say a word to drag an explanation out of him.

"I met him briefly in the elevator, but the crowd has apparently swallowed him whole."

Alyss rolled her eyes and latched on to Dorian, drawing him away. "If I know my brother, he's avoiding the crowd. Follow me," she insisted, though her iron grip didn't leave him much choice. They weaved through the mingling co-workers with a fluidity that Dorian really should've expected from a former acrobat, and Alyss deposited him... in front of Cullen's desk?

"Stay there," she directed sternly, but a hint of mischievous fire was starting to flicker to life in her evergreen eyes.

Frankly, Dorian was a little to frightened of whatever ideas were running around in that head of hers to disobey, so he accepted his fate at lingering in the corner of the room. Despite his prominence among the firm, Cullen insisted that he couldn't get any work done in the collaborative maze of desks and cubicles in the office floor, and so had re-directed his desk to the corner of the room as if placing himself in time-out. What Dorian had neglected to remember was that beside Cullen's desk was a window that had been stuck one-quarter of the way open for going on four years now, according to Varric at least.

Dorian cradled the Tevinter white wine he'd been able to snag a flute of before being dragged from the minibar and took a few sips for warmth, while cursing the regular occupant of this desk. To distract himself from the cold, he tried to dive into analyzing the flavors, to puzzle out just where Josephine bought this bottle from. Luckily-or unluckily, depending on one's point of view-he distracted himself so well that he completely missed the arrival of a completely adorable redheaded botanist until a conveniently nearby blond Fereldan put his foot in the way of his ankle and sent Nathanael Trevelyan stumbling into the arms of one distracted Tevinter.

The collision spawned many coinciding events. Firstly, the flute of white wine that Dorian had been mulling over slipped from his grasp, and shattered rather musically on the floor, although the only two people within earshot of it were not in the circumstance to appreciate the musicality of wine glasses. Secondly, with a hand now free of a wind glass to hold, Dorian reached out and tried to steady Nathanael, and they luckily ended up leaning on the desk for support. Thirdly, out of eyesight of both botanist and Tevinter, the blond Fereldan and the redheaded Inquisitor made eye contact and thought smugly, _All according to plan._

* * *

 

With his arms full of Nathanael, who was blushing and stammering from the fall, Dorian fought to keep a smile off of his face. However, that battle was one he couldn't win, and neither could he resist a lighthearted quip. "Falling already, Nathanael?"

Any kind of witty retort fled Nathanael at the sight of those grey eyes at half-mast and crinkling at the edges with a smirk. Knowing that he was probably flushed as red as his hair, he tried to smile charmingly. "Gravity increased on me. Not an uncommon occurrence. I think I might've been cursed as a child by a fairy."

That drew a bark of laughter from Dorian, and in his attempt to look anywhere but directly at the brilliance of Dorian Pavus lest he be blinded, Nathanael caught a fringe of leafy green from the corner of his eye, which drew his gaze up, up, up....

"You've got to be joking."

The sudden monotone quality of Nathanael's voice snapped Dorian out of his laughter, and he followed his gaze to the day-old sprig of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling, tied up in a bright scarlet ribbon. It was no question to either man who put it there, and while at any other time it would've been great fun to imagine the blushing and dorkishly affectionate man that was Cullen Rutherford when ambushed by his girlfriend, both Dorian and Nathanael were temporarily rendered speechless at the opportunity thrust upon them.

Nathanael shifted his weight slightly so that he leaned more on the desk than he did Dorian, and his hands drifted to sit on Dorian's hip and shoulder. The urge to hold his breath was strong, so close to Dorian's face that for a wild moment Nathanael believed that if he so much as breathed that the unexpected beauty before him would shatter. Those stormy grey eyes seemed liable to stare into his very soul, and Nathanael didn't quite mind the idea. 

Dorian could practically count every freckle that was splashed across Nathanael's face, and the urge to press his lips to every single one was surprisingly persuasive. But that would require breaking free of this delightful impasse of drinking in the delightful face in front of him. Slowly, achingly slowly, Dorian inched his hands to settle more securely on Nathanael's hips. Dorian had to tilt his head downward the slightest of degrees, but to see those green eyes looking up at him through sinfully long eyelashes was reward enough for that minuscule height difference. 

The thought of offering an out, of skirting the letter of the "kiss under the mistletoe" tradition, flew across Nathanael's mind for the slightest of seconds. Surely Dorian would rather keep things chaste, professional; they'd only met half an hour ago for barely three minutes. But Dorian's fingers--long fingers on very _warm_ hands that were settled on the edges of his hips--twitched slightly, drawing Nathanael just a few millimeters closer, and he was lost, surging upward to meet that mouth that smiled so well. The hand that he'd placed at Dorian's shoulder buried itself in the silky dark hair, trying to crush his mouth harder against Dorian's. For a moment, Nathanael worried about being too rough too soon, but the softest whimper escaped those perfect lips of Dorian's and he smiled into the kiss.

He gripped Nathanael's hips tighter, anchoring himself to something outside of the mind-blowing way that Nathanael seemed to demand, persuade, and plead more out of that kiss than Dorian ever thought that he could give. Nathanael kissed like a desperate man, and the rougher, wilder parts of Dorian that felt every emotion passionately and to near extremes recognized that desperate feeling. He gave back all that he could in answer, clutching Nathanael closer to him, like he was a life-line that Dorian didn't even know he needed until he caught it with both hands.

If it weren't for a dull burning in his chest, Nathanael doubted that he'd ever let his grip on Dorian's hair slacken, but with a sharp inhale he leaned back just enough to breathe again. Dorian's eyes were still closed, but there was a definite flush lighting those bronze cheeks, and Nathanael felt unreasonably proud that it was he who put it there.

"You kiss remarkably well for a supposedly cursed man." Dorian immediately wanted to slap himself for the sheer stupidity of that statement and the breathless way he said it, but a vibrating chuckle rose from Nathanael's chest.

"I suppose you'd be the expert on that?" Nathanael quipped in return. Only then did he hear how that sounded in his head, and he continued, stammering with embarrassment. "Not that there's anything wrong with having kissed other cursed men, or being cursed, or putting curses on men-so long as they deserved them, mind you-I just... i know I met you half an hour ago but I'd really like kissing you again."

“On that, we can agree wholeheartedly,” declared Dorian.

Nathanael's phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he drew it out he choked back a laugh. 

_ Alyss (Sent 9:02 PM) Told you so. Have a happy Wintersend with him. You both deserve it! xx _

Upon showing the small screen to Dorian, the other man shook his head with a quiet laugh. 

“She's a devil with an angel’s wings,” said Dorian. “What did she  _ tell you so _ anyway?”

“I was going to spend tonight with a bottle of port and some light reading, but… I’m glad that Alyss got me to change my mind. She thought I’d like you. Don’t tell her I said this, but _she was very, very right._ ” Those last words were murmured in Dorian’s ear, and Nathanael couldn't resist a sharp, satisfied grin when he felt the other man shiver as warm breath ghosted over his skin.  

With a raised eyebrow and hooded eyes, Dorian replied, “That sounds like an excellent plan, actually. What do you say to ending the evening at your place with that likely excellent bottle and comparing notes on whatever your were reading?”

Nathanael couldn’t stop the goofy grin that spread across his face at the thought of Dorian tearing up Varric’s writing to shreds. But  _ yes, _ the thought of languid, happy Dorian in his house made his insides tingle, and he nearly lost his grip on the urge to bury his head in the hollow of the other man’s throat and nuzzle like an affectionate mabari. 

“You’re giving me  _ ideas _ , Dorian. I shouldn’t keep you out so late. How would you get home all on your own?”

“Just for that remark, you should definitely keep me.”

“What, like it’d be a chore? You must get to know me better if that’s what you consider a punishment, Dorian.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

**Author's Note:**

> i... uh, poured way more into that kiss scene than was really warranted by some schmoopy seasonal fluff, didn't i? hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
